


Sparks

by CloudDreamer



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Jaylen feedbacked to the Magic’s everyone is sad, Siesta’s over everyone wake up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: Reality flickers. Things look different ...Jaylen Hotdogfingers and Yeong-Ho Garcia switch teams in the feedback!Yeong-Ho Garcia is now pitching.Jaylen is packing her bags.-Or, a quick one based on recent events.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Sparks

She packs her bags with resignation weighing on her. It’s a familiar feeling, one she’d managed to fool herself into thinking she’d left behind. One she slips into as easily as the uniform, the uniform that hangs loosely off her now, the colors all wrong. Pink and maroon don’t blend easily, the yellow highlights clash with the white, and the names run into each other.

 _Yeolen Hotdogfingers._

Primarily the darker red, with the traces of pink bleeding out from a spot on Jaylen’s chest like a gunshot wound and a logo that’s several different kisses, all spread out like the sparks are supposed to be. It’s newer than either of the jerseys were, practically smelling of detergent. Not the worse distortion she’s seen. Her Hall Stars and Pods uniform was practically unwearable when she auctioned it away a couple months into the siesta for some charity or another. 

Jaylen pulls up the app on her phone every now and then. The Garages are playing under an eclipse, and she knows logically that if anyone were to get burned, someone would bother to text her. She’d be lit up with messages. She wouldn’t need to check this old fashioned way, obsessively refreshing the page waiting for something, anything, to change. She wonders how many people were waiting for this shift. How many bets she won. 

She wonders how many phones exploded with notifications because of this.

When her phone buzzes, her traitorous heart races without her will, but it’s just an invite to the Magic group chat. She hovers over the accept and decline buttons for some good time. The first thing she did was check the schedule and the next projected Feedback game is with the Fridays, not too many days away. Is it worth getting to know people, only to be taken from them? 

It’s not inevitable. But, very, very likely. She feels the sound waves echo in her bones with every small motion. It wants to jump into motion. Reality around her is flexible, understood to follow different lines, and for the first time in over a decade, it’s more than just a party trick. It’s life itself. It’s the universe bending to her will. Well— not quite to her will, not anymore. 

She remembers the power of it coursing through her, risen from the dead properly this time. Her body finally hers at last, electric with the world turning, changing, burning, with her the constant. 

She presses accept, not really sure why. It’s better not to be alone, even if it’s only for a short time. Even if this’ll hurt when someone goes up in flames, well, she needs to figure out how to take that hit anyway. Resignation in blaseball is normal— it’s good. It’s the only way to stay sane. She can’t let herself cry at the thought of leaving San Francisco, the first home she’s had since she was burned the first time. If she does, she thinks she’ll never stop crying.


End file.
